Musings One by One
by Lilia Lasia
Summary: A collection of Short Short one shots. The boy who lived and the love of his life. Wonder who that could be? A betrayer playing his own game amongst the fellows in war. NEW! A hurt friend looking for reassurance...
1. Ginny

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Harry Potter. I would keep him in my purse. But I don't own him or anything else that JK owns. I do own my purse. It's a magical purse. You search, it finds!

Maybe he was right. Maybe we weren't meant to be. But if that's true, then why have I loved him since the moment I first saw him? If that's true, then why did I feel the need to follow him to the Ministry? If that's true, if we weren't meant for each other, they why did he protect me? If he doesn't love me, then why did he break my heart rather than have me die? It wasn't until two months later, when they showed, at the last minute, for Bill and Fleur's wedding, that I found the real truth. As we were sitting together, the silence only barely amicable, he sighed. "I know you understand , I know you know that it wasn't something I wanted to do, but I _don't._" I looked at him, amazed. He sighed, only slightly amused with my reaction. He glanced at his two friends. "As I watch them together, I am reminded of us. And everyday she reminds me that you are just as capable as she is. Everyday he reminds me that I haven't stopped loving you. And my love brings you just as much danger. And if you aren't with me I can't protect you. And still, everyday, I reminded myself that he can't know. That you are safe. But their voices are stronger than mine."

I stared at him dumbfounded. I stared at him for ten minutes. And they got up to leave. He turned to me and whispered in my ear, "I'm sorry."

I turned around and walked away. I returned two minutes later, my trunk, shrunk, in my pocket, my favorite cloak in my arms. His face lit up. "You didn't think I'd let you leave again, did you?" He stared at me. "Let's go!" I said, and grinned.


	2. Draco

**Disclaimer: **You are being hypnotized as you read this…soon you will believe that I am the Empress of the World! maniacal cackle…attempt fails miserably Ah, well…maybe you'll believe I own Harry Potter and his smexy friends? No? Well, fine then. Sod off. I mean…er…read this first!

**Lesson 2: War Enemies. Not so great.**

If I could change I would. But if I tried to change now, well, I'd only be different for oh…about the five seconds that it would take my lord (note the heavy sarcasm) to read my mind and avada kedavra me. So I've had to keep up this shameless façade. The only person whom I could ever drop it around was Moaning Myrtle. But stupid Potter had to take that away. In doing so, he almost killed me, and as my life was flying away from me, I could have kissed him. It was the perfect means of Escape. The only route I could take to get out, but no. Bloody Professor Snape had to save me. I know that I should be thanking him, but that is exactly how twisted my 'master' has made me. It is a loss of life. It somewhat resembles the loss of life I, myself, have melded into the old kook who used to hold my life in his hands for nine months out of the year. It's a wonder I've made it this far. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I found out that he-who-must-not-be-named was an actual leligmens. Of course, I had my suspicions before hand, but mere weeks ago my favorite professor, and also the one I hated the most at times, informed me viciously of the-feared-one's power to view the contents of people's minds. I shook with fear at the thought of him reading my mind. He would know of all my traitorous thoughts against him, all the crucial moments where his plans could have progressed but instead started their decline from a few supposedly snide comments out of my mouth to the infamous Harry bloody Potter. What other choices could I have had? I taught myself the secret art of repelling people away from my mind, of keeping false thoughts on the surface, of appearing rumpled but actually knowing exactly what I was doing. The 'fearsome' man-who-let-the-boy-live believed himself to be in charge, but if I have learned anything at this amazing school, it is how to twist things to my advantage, how to take people's own words and throw them back in their face. He believes himself to be in charge, and yet, I am the one truly controlling the operation. I may not be the one with the plans, but I am the one who can turn them into my own plots. I, of all people, do not want Potter to die. I may hate him with a fiery, vengeful passion, but he is my only permanent escape from this hell. People think about the prophecy often; only one logical conclusion resides. It is what life always comes down to. The battle of wills, the battle between good and evil. The battle between who thinks they have the power, and those who actually do. It is funny really, how people spend generations improving their status, their wealth, their lives, and in the end, it always ends. Even, alright, fine, Voldemort thought he had thwarted death, but he hasn't, only postponed it temporarily. Eventually, Harry will defeat him. After all, good always triumphs in the end.

**Author's Note: **I know. Short and terrible formatting. Flames telling me this would be just as acceptable as nice sweet loving reviews. Please review and I'll do the same. Have a cookie for reading it anyway!


	3. Ron

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. However, I am kind of ashamed to admit that I own this story. I am proud to admit that, after the badness of the last few chapters, I have learned how to format to my advantage! Yay! party dance Now, shoo shoo…

**Lesson 3: Screw you and all ya'll too!**

"Fuck off!" I cried. All I wanted was to feel important. To feel like I mattered as much as he did.

"You do matter," he said quietly.

I huffed. That new mind reading thing was kind of creepy. But mostly just annoying. "The fact that you actually think that's true definitely says something about your mental status."

"I'm not crazy," He said it in a tone that was factual, and actually quite sad sounding. Which was explained to me by what he said next. "It would be easier if I was crazy, I think. I wouldn't have to know that what was happening was a good thing. That billions of people dying would be worth it. But I can't help thinking that it's not. And you matter more than you know. Apparantly, the whole sanity thing is an issue, and I have to be sane to do the final spell. And without you, I would be quite unable to remain that way. And who would take care of 'Mione? It was actually mostly you who has always been undependable in a dependable way. I can wxpect you to overreact--much like you are now, by the way—and insist that everything is peachy and make retarded jokes about Malfoy or Snape or anyone really. You're my sanity, whether you believe it or not."

I sighed. "You know what, Harry? Sometimes you make me feel like a real arse. And I would hate you for that…but I am. An arse, I mean. Cause o'course I don't hate you."

"I do believe you are babbling," Harry stated, sounding very much like Snape.

I stared at him. "Wow. Don't you ever do that again. If it wasn't for the fact that I know no one can find us, well…for a minute I thought he snuck up behind us."

Harry looked at me to make sure I was serious. Then he started laughing. "Ah yes. Snape. Roughing it with a couple of teenagers. I can see it now. How could he possibly go without a shower? Oh, wait…"

It was Harry's honest realization that he had said something mean and dumb that made me begin to laugh. And then the thought of Snape roughing it. In muggle clothes. I started laughing so hard I could barely breathe. And then I pictured Dumbledore roughing it.

"Wow. Ron, it wasn't that funny," Harry said. Which I suppose made sense since I was basically going hysterical.

I managed to quit laughing long enough to say, "Dumbledore in muggle hiking gear."

Harry burst our laughing. So apparently it was okay that I disgracing the memory of Dumbledore with my disturbing mental picture. If Harry thought it was funny, then that must mean that he had finally started believing that he didn't kill the old guy. Which was definitely a good thing. Personally, I was sick of his "oh poor me, Dumbledore died to save me" rants. Dumbledore did die to save him. The old man was psychic. Practically. He knew that saving Harry was of utmost importance. And it was. Because this was the last time we would laugh for fourteen days. Well, this and at the look on Hermione's face when she walked in about two minutes later. Because three days later we found him. Three days later, we found Voldy.

Author's note: Now please remember, read and review! Pretty please? I even like flames! Flamity flaming flames. Promise. And also, remember that these are short stories for a reason. So if you really want to know what's going on inside my head, let me know in a –sparkly shiny italics and bold- **_REVIEW! _**And I'll reply and let you know. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die stick a needle in my eye….credit given to Aspen in the Sunlight. But I'm afraid of finishing it…


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